Exhaustion
by MusicalCatharsis
Summary: Two drunken nights. Five drabbles. Garvez.
1. Chapter 1

She awakes bleary eyed to a persistent banging and for a moment she's not sure where it's coming from. Blinking away the haze as her hearing sharpens, the last dredges of her peaceful slumber slipping through her fingers as her feet hit the floor, her hands reaching out of her purple silk bathrobe and sliding it around her shoulders. She slips her feet into slippers that have seen better days but she can't bring herself to throw away as they are one of the last gifts Kevin bought her when they were happy. The banging persists, and she realizes that someone is on the other side of her door, and as she gets closer she can hear someone repeating her name, and she stiffens when she recognizes the voice. Pulling open the door and pushing her hair out of her face she takes him in, slumped against her doorframe with a bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand. He's still in the same clothes from yesterday, but his gun is no longer attached to his hip and for that she is grateful. He looks tired, eyes red and puffy as he looks up at her and she opens the door wider, letting him stumble into her living room. He lets out a loud sigh when he lands on her couch, clutching the bottle to his chest, with his legs wide.

"Luke…" she says, closing the door behind him and locking the deadbolt, not turning to look at the man. She tightens the belt around her waist, drawing the bathrobe tighter around her frame, suddenly aware that she is bare underneath save for a T-shirt and her last pair of clean underwear. He doesn't turn to look at her, instead staring straight ahead, his eyes unmoving. "What are you doing here?"

"He asked me to help him," he says, looking down at the bottle and lifting it to his lips, taking a long sip before putting the whiskey back in his lap and wiping at his lips with his forearm. She walks over to the couch, tucking her right leg underneath her as she sinks into the furniture. Reaching out she wraps her fingers around the neck of the bottle, tugging it from his grasp and bringing it to her lips.

"Who did?" She asks, already knowing the answer, but needing him to say it. Placing the bottle on the floor on the other end of the couch, she angles her body towards him.

"Scratch." He reaches out to take his bottle back finding the space between her hands empty, and he looks up at her with a glare. "When the fire escape fell he managed to catch onto the edge of the building." He says, his eyes closing as he sits up straighter. She notices the tension in his movements as he bends his knees and places his head in his hands. "I looked into his eyes, Penelope, I looked into his eyes and I let him fall." He doesn't turn to look at her instead she watches him close his eyes as he takes a shuddering breath. She doesn't say anything, knowing that words aren't what he needs in this moment but reaches out to gently pull him into her.

She places his head in her lap, her fingers combing through his thick hair, and commands him to sleep. She whispers that he's safe now, they're all safe now, that Jack and Hotch are safe because of his actions. She doesn't realize the tears that are streaming down her face until he whispers Walker's name as his breathing evens out, emitting a soft snore.

It's late in the morning when he awakens on the couch, his body tangled with hers and for a moment he's confused before the memories of the previous night filter back to him. He tries not to move as he places his head back onto the arm of the couch, tightening his arm around the woman and closing his eyes once again, slipping back into exhaustion.


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting at the end of a seedy bar she stares into her phone, her eyes unmoving as she gently sips on the drink in her glass. She doesn't notice when he slides onto the stool nearest to her, or at least she pretends she doesn't, which is something she's getting too good at. She presses her index finger into the home button to illuminate the screen and sighs heavily when she finds no notifications. Her heart clenching when she realizes that after three hours her distress signal either went unnoticed or ignored.

"Who sent you?" She asks as she lifts her drink to her lips, tipping the liquid into her mouth, letting the tequila shot burn her throat as she swallows. She blinks moving her eyes to catch him lift two fingers, signaling for two more drinks from the bartender.

"Tracked your phone," he answered as he leans his arms onto the sticky bar top. His leather jacket stretched across his broad shoulders. She takes a quick moment to appreciate the side of his face before reaching out for the shot that was placed in front of her, tipping it back with a wince.

"I'm not going to be crying tonight, Newbie." She turns back to the bartender and asks for him to leave the bottle before she digs around in her purse. She tosses cash onto the table top and drags the bottle to refill her glass. "So if that's what you're waiting for, you're going to be disappointed. I'm all out of everything tonight." She concludes, tilting her head and opening her mouth as he watches the clear liquid trickle into her mouth.

Looking over at him she notices his drink remained untouched before him. Snaking her hand out to press again her home button for the hundredth time, or so it seemed, causes her to let out a frustrated groan before peeling the spout off of the tequila bottle. She grips it in one hand, lifting it to her lips and taking a large gulp, hissing after the liquid settles in her stomach. She looks over at him, their eyes connecting and laughs darkly.

"I don't need judgement, Alvez" she says as he reaches out to take the bottle from her. She squirms out of his reach as she drags the bottle closer to her. He sighs and straightens in his stool before turning to her.

"Give me the bottle, Penelope." He says, as he looks at the bar, counting the three glasses that littered the spot in front of her. "Let me take you home." She steps off of the stool, sliding her phone into her purse and glares at him with a shrug of her shoulders. Standing on trembling legs she begins her trek to the front door, the bottle of alcohol clutched at her side. She doesn't turn around to make sure he's following her, as she can feel his stare on the back of her neck. She looks down at his fingers as they curl around her elbow causing her to stop in the cool night air outside of the bar. He pries the bottle from her grip, tossing it behind him, the sound of glass breaking drowning out her audible groan. He reaches out to snatch the keys that she is holding, shoving them into his front pocket and earning himself a shove in the shoulder as she turns to glare at him.

"I'm not drunk, Noob," she hisses, pushing on his chest again out of anger.

He stands still as her hands continually push against his chest, demanding her keys back before he wraps his arm around her shoulders. "You've been drinking," He counters, leading her towards the black SUV and she stops, wondering if this was the one they had stood before earlier this week, the SUV where she cried over a dead colleague. She realizes too late that the guttural scream was coming from her when he wraps his arms around her from behind, his hands splaying across her stomach as she doubles over in pain. After a few moments she rights herself and moves over to the passenger side of the car, opening the door and sliding into the seat. He makes sure she is buckled before he drives away, carefully navigating the streets in the early morning hour.

She glares at him as he pulls up to her apartment building, quickly unbuckling herself and climbing out of the car, hoping that she can move quicker than him. He's behind her as she shoves her key into the door, twisting it and pushing on the wood, leaving it open for him to trail into her apartment after her. Kicking off her heels she turns to him, eyes softened and laced with unshed tears as he closes the door, locking it behind him. Penelope blinks away the moisture in her eyes as she pushes him against the door, making a split second decision as she covers his mouth with her own. He stills under her causing her to let out a low growl as she reaches out to place his hand on her breast before reaching up to tug his face closer to hers.

"You said you wanted to be the one I went to," she whispers against his lips, running her hand down his stomach to palm him over his dark jeans, feeling the bulge already formed. His eyes connect with hers for a moment as she reaches down to begin unbuckling his belt, letting the clang of the metal be the only sound between the paid of them before it is replaced with a loud moan as she sinks to her knees before him.

Several hours later she awakens on her living room floor, his arm tossed casually over her right hip to the tinkling of her ringtone. She can see Derek's face illuminated in the dark room as the man behind her tightens his grip, pulling her closer to him, as the call ends. She reaches out to dismiss the notification before turning in his embrace, placing a kiss to his neck and sliding her hands between their bodies.

"I need sleep, woman," He says, voice groggy as he trails his hands up her bare hip before curling around to grip her backside. He pulls her over his lap, planting one knee on each side of his hip as he slides into her. His hands move to grip her hips as she rides him. He watches as she cries out her release minutes later and then lays her head onto his bare chest. He moves his hands from her waist to wrap around her back as he finishes spilling himself into her, his hips bucking wildly as she places gentle kisses along his collarbone. He smooths her hair once they're finished, whispering to her softly in the dim lighting of her phone ringing again. "It's okay to be exhausted, Chica, I've got you."


	3. Chapter 3

She's pacing her office in her blue heels when he walks in, closing the door behind him with a sharp snap and dropping his go bag at his feet. Her head lifts to lock eyes with him, giving a small squeak as she continues pacing quicker than before. Her heels clicking loudly in the darkened office. His eyes follow her movements as he mentally compares her to a ping pong ball, being swatted back and forth across the green table.

"Garcia," he begins as she pauses, turning to look at him with wide eyes. He takes notices of her new hair style, the golden strands curled messily around her face, and smiles at the outrageous pair of ears sitting on top of her head. "What's going on?" He reaches out to touch her arm causing her to stop in her movements. She locks eyes with him under the growing tendrils of her bangs and heaves a sigh. He watches her deflate from under his thick eyelashes, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You must be exhausted," she mutters shaking her head and reaches up to fix her headband. "You all have been working for three days straight and you just got in." He watches as she begins to move again, shivering as she wraps her arms around herself in the blue light being cast into the office. His eyes travel to the littered desktop. A half eaten sleeve of saltine crackers are tossed precariously to the right of her mouse and farther back are several cans of ginger ale.

"Are you sick?" He watches as she pauses again another squeak slipping from between her parted lips. She nods quickly, turning away from him in order to sit down at her computer.

"Something like that," she whispers, turning her face away from him. He notices then that her bottom lip is trembling and her eyes are closing over unshed tears.

"Do you need anything?" He asks as he pushes himself off of the door and moves closer to her. She shakes her head as she brings her fingertips to her mouth, clamping her lips shut tightly. He watches as her face falls, a thin layer of sweat beading on her upper lip as she groans and tosses her head back against the rest of her chair. "Are you sure?" She nods her head and turns to face him as she wipes at her forehead with a nearby napkin.

"I needed something months ago, damage is done now." He watches as her eyes travel downward, her face cresting with worry and doubt.

"Are you done for the day?" He asks, walking closer to her. "I'll bring you home." He holds his hand out to her, wiggling his fingers until she places her hand in his grasp. She shivers when he closes his fingers around hers and pulls her up from the chair, into his chest. Reaching out with his left hand he grasps a strand of her hair in his fingers, twirling it as he rests his forehead against hers, noticing how warm she felt.

"Luke," she whispers her eyes closing as she licks her lips. "I'm pregnant."

"You're…" he swallows, his eyes searching her face. Waiting for her to open her eyes and look at him. "A baby?" His hand drops her hair and settles between them, his fingers ghosting over her stomach as he waits for her permission to touch her.

"I know we were only together that one night." she begins, pulling her hand from his, trying to shield herself from him. "You don't have to…I'll understand if you want nothing to do with it." He pulls his forehead from hers, grasping her chin in his hand and titling her face towards his. He waits for her to look into his eyes and when she does he fixes her with a gentle stare. His thumbs rubbing across her cheeks.

"I want to." Luke whispers as he leans forward and presses his lips on her forehead. He lets his free hand settle on her stomach, his fingers ghosting over the area his child currently called home. Reluctantly, he pulls himself from the embrace and picks up her purse and his go bag. He stands holding the office door open for her as she shuts down her computer and tidies her desk. "Let's get you home, Chica."


	4. Chapter 4

Penelope is sound asleep when he lets himself into her apartment, carefully stepping through the maze of boxes scattered around the floor plan. He can hear the soft sounds of the television playing in her bedroom as he places his go bag on the kitchen counter before shrugging out of his jacket and toeing off his boots. He continues deeper into her home as he unbuttons his shirt, peeling the material off of his arms and tossing it onto a chair just to the left of her entryway. He smiles when this shirt joins several of his others, each tossed precariously onto the chair followed by a t-shirt and lastly a pair of pants.

He didn't abuse the key she had given to him in the beginning, choosing to remain in the confines of his own apartment several miles away, but lately, he found himself needing to be near her. Wanting desperately to lose himself in the comfort she provides with just a smile. He steps over Roxy, who was asleep on a pile of blankets that looked to be thrown haphazardly out of a nearby closet. Luke settles underneath the sheets. His body curling around hers and slides his left hand around her to press on the swell of her exposed stomach. He lets his mind wander to places he tries to steer clear of, wondering if the small family they had constructed together would be enough for her in the long run. Did she want more?

He rubs his thumb back and forth over her swollen skin, feeling the ridges that were forming from the growth of his child. His child, he thought again, a phrase he didn't ever dare to think would become a reality. Leaning closer to her, he presses a kiss to her hairline as he closes his eyes and breathes her in, a deep calm settling over him as he does. He slides down the bed until his face is level with her back and leans over to press a kiss to her belly.

"Hi baby," he whispers, letting his voice mingle with the sounds of a late night infomercial. "It's Daddy. I can't wait to meet you." She doesn't move and for that he is grateful, not sure if he could explain the reason he was here instead of his own place. Not sure if he could just tell the woman that he had fallen in love with her somewhere between "I made lasagna" and "I'm pregnant." Still, after all this time not sure if she reciprocated his feelings.

"I'm so happy that you're coming," he says instead, continuing to speak to his child. "And even though your mother and I aren't…you are loved and will always be loved." He kisses her stomach again, letting his lips linger on her skin, remembering fondly what it felt like to be with her intimately. He moves himself back up the bed carefully, settling once again behind Penelope and curls his arm protectively around her and their little bean. He nuzzles his face into her hair as he closes his eyes and prepares to sleep.

"You are loved and will always be loved, Penelope," he whispers to her.


	5. Chapter 5

"Alvez," he always answered his phone in the same manner. It's only by the pitch of his voice does she know she had roused him from sleep and at this point she doesn't care in the slightest. She lets out a haggard sob at the sound of his voice, her resolve crumbling with two syllables muttered from a mouth that made her head spin. "What's wrong?"

Penelope doesn't say anything as she bends at the waist against the wall outside of their daughter's nursery. Another sob rips through her before she can clamp her hand over her mouth in the hallway. She darts her eyes back to the closed door to her left and silently prays that she didn't wake the teething child. She had been feeling like this for a few hours now; mentally exhausted and physically starved. She didn't want to reach out to him, per se, their child a glaring reminder of the night she threw herself at him in a partially drunken stupor. The night replaying in her mind each time she lets her hand settle between her legs while the other tweaks at her nipples, both vying for a release that never comes.

"Are either of you hurt?" he asks, his voice cutting through her montage of sobs. She manages to gasp out a no to the man on the other end of the line before she devolves back into tears in the middle of the hallway. "Give me five minutes," he says as she nods, sliding further down the wall. She drags her knees into her chest and uses her left arm to secure them to her body, laying her head on her arms as she disconnects the call, silence creeping around her as her sobs die down to heavy breathing.

She turns her tear stained face towards him upon his arrival, watching the way he seems to glide down the hallway to sit on the floor near her. She feels his arm slip behind her shoulder and pull her into his body and she snuggles closer to the warmth that he gives off. Tentatively she reaches her hand out to lay it flat against his chest, letting her fingers feel for the thump of his heart. His right hand come up to apply pressure to the side of her head, using it to place her head on his shoulder. Her fingers trace the outline of the dog tags he wears under his clothing; remembering the feel of the metal on her body as he traced kisses along her skin that evening. She reaches up to grip his hand, moving it to her breast, much like she did over a year ago. His fingers remain still under hers but, still, her nipple pebbles under his palm.

"Luke," she whispers, not moving her head from his shoulder, she continues to demand, "fuck me." The man lets out a low growl as his fingers close around her breasts, his thumb swiping across her hardened nipple. He moves his head to capture her lips, roughly parting them with his tongue as he gently pushes her to the floor of the hallway. His fingertips slowly inch their way up from her waist, pulling the t-shirt that covered her body up over her shoulders as his mouth continued moving hurriedly with her. She reaches out to run her hands up the back of his head, curling her fingers around the strands of hair that are thicker than she remembers. His left hand slides past the waistband of her panties and opens her, his finger slowly circling her. Penelope opens her legs wider in the hallway, allowing him to slide a finger into her opening, as she arches her back off of the hardwood floor. With a whisper of his name from her lips he stills above her and withdraws his hand agonizingly slow. She whines when he tears his lips from hers, pulling himself into a standing position and running his fingers through his hair as he walks to the end of the hall, before turning back to her.

"I need you," he says, using his left hand to rub softly against his lips, the memory of hers still seared into his flesh. "But not like this, not again." She sits up in the hallway and pulls her t-shirt back over her body letting the excess fabric pool in her lap. Penelope drops her head into her hands as she refuses to look at the man as she settles her breathing back into a normal rhythm. "How's Avery?" he asks and she gestures with her hand that he is more than welcome to check on his daughter, anything to get out from under his gaze. She stills as he walks past her, trailing his hands over the top of her head with a whispered _I'll be right back._ She scrambles to her feet and into her bedroom when the door closes behind him, letting the embarrassment settle onto her shoulders as she sits on the edge of her unmade bed.

" _Your mother is something else,"_ his voice filters through the baby monitor he'd installed the day Avery came home from the hospital. She walks closer to the monitor, watching his movements as he runs his fingers over the top of the infant's head. _"I have never loved anything in this world more than you and your mother."_ He finishes and leans in to press his lips to his daughter's forehead. Penelope watches him turn, his eyes connecting with the camera lens as he exits the room and closes the door behind him. She keeps her back turned to the door when she hears it open, her eyes still glued to her sleeping daughter in the grainy monotone screen. Her breath catches in her throat when he wraps his arms around her waist, lifting the fabric in order to settle his palms on her hips as he uses his face to move her hair off of her neck.

"I love you," he mutters as he presses a kiss to her neck. "I want you, but the next time I have you, I want to have all of you." She nods her head as he continues to rub his nose against her neck, the action sending shivers down her spine. "Do I have all of you, Chica?" Swallowing her reply she moves her hands to grip his wrists inching them up to cup around her breasts. His thumbs move swiftly over her pebbled nipples, eliciting a small moan to fall from her lips as she reaches around to grip him through his sweatpants. "I need an answer." He says before clamping his mouth over the skin behind her ear.

"Yes," she says through a moan as she turns in his arms and crushes her mouth to his, nipping at his bottom lip. "You had me at lasagna," she whispers against his lips as she pushes him backwards towards the bed, straddling his lap once he's seated on the surface. His hands reach down to grip the sides of the scrap of lace covering her and tugs at the seam, the fabric ripping from the action as the sound settles over the pair of them. He repeats the step at her other hip before leaning back on the bed, pushing on her ass, moving her forward in order for her sex to be hovering over his face.

"Stay still," he demands before he leans up to run his tongue up her center, flicking mercilessly at the bundle of nerves that causes her legs to quake around his head. His hands grip her hips, holding her in place as he continues to flick his tongue against her, drinking in the juices and the incoherent sounds leaving her mouth. She comes undone above him with a strangled yell and her body slumping over him as she rolls to his side. He uses her t-shirt to wipe at his mouth as he presses his lips to hers hungrily, dipping his tongue into her mouth, and smirking when she moans at the taste of herself. He stands back for a moment, his eyes darting to make sure their daughter is still asleep before he slides his sweatpants over his hips and wraps his arms around her middle in order to heft her to the top of the bed.

"Look at me," he commands as he lines himself up with her dripping sex, waiting until her eyes connect with his before moving. "Let go, Chica, I've got you." he says as he slides into her.


End file.
